


Nice Day for a Sulk

by Skitz_phenom



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Post canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-13 18:01:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/140126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skitz_phenom/pseuds/Skitz_phenom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some months after returning to Chicago and after having spent a memorable time on his adventure with Fraser, a melancholy (but NOT sulking) Ray is assigned a new partner, and working a case in which the suspects might be ghosts.  If he finds the case unusual, he's certainly in for a surprise with his new partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Day for a Sulk

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dvldb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dvldb/gifts).



"Hey, Kowalski." Huey diverted from heading towards his desk to pass by Ray's and dropped a file folder on it. "Here's the Braeden file. Good luck with that one, man."

Ray picked up the file and thumbed through the pages. "Yeah? How come?"

After settling in his chair and leaning back to kick his feet up, Huey laughed. "Lady is crazy. She thinks ghosts are stealing from her."

"And we're investigating this why?" Ray had heard some grumbling about Marjorie Braeden, but hadn't paid close attention. He only knew it had been routed to his desk because Welsh was getting pressure from someone downtown.

"Because," Dewey, who'd also just gotten to his desk, chimed in. He was still balancing a donut on top of a Styrofoam coffee cup and trying to set it on a clear-ish corner of his desk without toppling either donut or coffee or the haphazard stack of files threatening to spill over if they were jostled. "She's some aunt or something to someone at the Mayor's office. So the case keeps getting shuffled around, but they're bound and determined to find someone who can figure it out and shut her up."

"Yeah," Huey chimed in, "I think it ended up here because you and Fraser used to land the weird cases like this."

Ray fought very hard against the urge to wince at the mention of Fraser, and managed a convincingly steady, "Huh, should be interesting. She's probably just crazy."

He spent a few moments reading over the case notes, and hated to agree but Huey was right. This was totally the kind of case he and Fraser would have ended up on. There were reports from four different beat cops, a Sergeant from the eighteenth, and another Detective from that same division. Apparently the first few reports were dismissed pretty quickly. Lady called in reporting that her jewelry was going missing, right out of her jewelry box at night while she slept, but her house hadn't been broken into. Cops on the scene had found no sign of forced entry, and since the lady lived alone, she had no one to corroborate the fact that the stuff was actually missing. There were subtle mentions that she probably just misplaced it, and might have been a little touched in the head.

The most recent updates included a few written statements from Marjorie herself, and she was pretty candid about the fact that she thought it was a ghost who was robbing her and that she wanted the CPD to do something about it.

"It's probably squirrels." Dewey said a few minutes later.

"Squirrels?" Ray repeated.

"Yeah, you know. They like shiny things, don't they?"

Ray rolled his eyes. "That's raccoons, moron."

"No, I'm serious, man." Dewey went on. "This buddy of mine kept losing his socks and sometimes handkerchiefs and stuff. Said they disappeared right out of his laundry hamper. Well, one day he comes home and spots this squirrel running across the lawn dragging his sock after it." Coffee sloshed dangerously close to the rim of his cup as he made a gesture that Ray suspected was meant to represent a small furry animal running over the grass. "Anyway, this squirrel has a nest up in this tree, and he can't get up there, but he keeps an eye on the thing. Turns out it's getting into his house through this hole behind the eaves that leads right to his laundry room."

"Huh," Huey remarked, "could be squirrels."

Ray really didn't want to dignify that with any kind of encouragement so he simply read off from the report. "Says here that she had Pest Control come out to the house and check for critters in the attic and that sorta thing. They didn't find nothing."

"Hey?" Huey looked speculatively at Dewey. "Think we could work some kind of joke about squirrels and stealing socks?""

Dewey snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I bet we could come up with something."

Lieutenant Welsh, who happened to be walking from the break room to his office, paused to eye them with a particularly covetous expression. "That wasn't a joke I heard you two comedians," the word was dripping with disdain, "working on, was it?"

Huey and Dewey both shook their heads, fervently. "No sir," Huey hurried to assure him. "Just talking about Ray's case."

"Good. Because you know MY rules. If you come up with it here and use it in the act, the department gets royalties. Twenty percent of the house cover every time it's used." He added belatedly, "not to mention the rules the department has against moonlighting." He glowered at them for a few more minutes until they both managed to find ways to look busy, then returned to his office.

When Ray had come back from his extended say up in Canada with Fraser, it had surprised him to learn that not only had Huey and Dewey managed to start their own comedy club, but that it was successful. They'd ended up hiring a guy they'd once busted for racketeering as their business manager and he'd done wonders with the place. Well, it got better once both men realized that comedy wasn't their forte, but hiring good comedy acts certainly brought in the crowds. They both came back, rather sheepishly from what Ray had heard, to work at the 2-7, but still insisted on performing together every Wednesday night and Sunday afternoon.

Ray had been to one show. It wasn't as bad as he'd expected, but the four beers he had certainly made it more tolerable.  
He'd made little to no headway on the Braeden case two hours later when Frannie showed up at his desk. "Hi, Ray."

"Hey, Frannie." he grumbled. Thankfully she was dressed down today – well for her the skirt that ended just above her knees and the demure neckline of the sheer blouse were ‘down’ – so he wasn’t treated to a flash of leg that made him fight the urge to squirm uncomfortably. He suspected he’d taken the whole ‘sister’ thing too deeply to heart, because any of those old feelings of attraction were long since quashed by the urge to punch anyone who looked at her the wrong way. Still, that didn’t mean she didn’t get on his nerves.

"So, I got this new book."

Ray groaned. This was not going to be good. Another of the fun things that had happened while he'd been away for two months was that Frannie found a new cause. Some friend of a friend had loaned her a book that was just like one of the tacky bodice-rippers she used to read, _except_ it had been about two guys. Apparently she'd freaked out, read it anyway, and then pretty much immediately decided it was the best thing ever.

On top of that, she'd gotten it into her head that Ray and Fraser were just like two of the star-crossed lovers in one of her books, and she spent a ridiculous amount of time trying to talk to Ray about it. She was absolutely convinced that Fraser was gay and in love with him, especially since that finally explained why he'd never made a move on her.

"Anyway," Frannie went on, lowering her voice for Ray's ears only. "This one is called Sahara's Savage Son, and it's about this handsome and rich Sheik who's traveling through the desert with his devoted servant, Abdul ..."

He tuned her out as best as he could. The funny thing was, Frannie was way more on target than she knew. He and Fraser's relationship _had_ changed while they were on their adventure together. Less than a week on the trail and one night when they were both bundled in their sleeping bags, Fraser rolled towards him and he'd rolled towards Fraser and they were just kissing. It had just happened so easy and natural and they both just went with it.

The problem was that he wasn't with Fraser right now. He'd come back to Chicago, and Fraser had stayed up in Canada and that was the end of it. They'd spent nearly two months on their adventure, together like that every night, but the end of the trip had been unexpectedly rushed because Ray found out that his Mom was in the hospital. Thankfully it had just been appendicitis, and she came out of it okay, but it had meant that as soon as they got back to the closest thing to civilization, he'd hopped a plane and he and Fraser never got really got a chance to talk about what had happened between them. Since he'd come home, they still talked regularly on the phone, usually once a week at least, but their conversations were oddly normal, with no mention of the change in their relationship. Ray always meant to bring it up, but just hadn't ever seemed to find a way to do it.

"...so, even though he rescued the Sultan's daughter and she's been promised to him, the Sheik finally realizes that it's his loyal servant that he's truly in love with."

"Frannie," Ray finally had to interrupt. "Look, I gotta work on this case. We'll talk later, okay?"

"Oh," she looked a bit startled that he hadn't ended the conversation by chasing her off with a growl - which was what he usually ended up doing - and then her expression grew somewhat knowing. She patted him on the shoulder before she walked away. "Sure, Ray."

Geez, that's just what he needed, Frannie being observant. He'd have to make sure he avoided her later. The mood he was in, he'd likely end up spilling his guts. He tried to shake off the doldrums by focusing on the case. He was going to have to go talk to Marjorie Braeden sooner or later, but he was hoping for later. Ray just really wasn't in the right frame of mind for more crazy.

“Kowalski!” Lieutenant Welsh’s voice bellowed out over the steady din of the bullpen a short while later. “My office, now.”

Ray looked up from the report he’d been half-heartedly re-reading at and saw the Lieutenant in the doorway give a brusque jerk of his head. With a sigh he pushed himself away from his desk and trudged the short distance to Welsh’s office.

“Shut the door,” Welsh barked as soon as he stepped into the room. Turing to swing it shut he wondered what the hell he did to piss the Lieutenant off. His reports were no later than usual, he hadn’t gotten physical with a perp in weeks and that smell hadn’t been coming from his desk, despite what Frannie said (he would never admit to knowing how the cheese sandwich ended up in the back of Dewey’s file drawer).

“Take a seat, Detective,” Welsh continued and Ray obliged slouchingly. “It’s been brought to my attention that since your return from the great wide north, you’ve not been as enthused about your work as you once were. This concerns me, detective. It does not bode well for the general well-being of this precinct to have one of its' officers sulking."

Ray bristled. "Sulking? Lieu, I..."

Welsh held up a forestalling hand. "It is for that reason that I am quite pleased to let you know that you're being given a new assignment."

"What?" Ray spluttered, but before he could rally much of a protest, Welsh barreled on, talking over him.

"Certain events of several months ago have apparently brought to light that the cooperation between the Chicago Police Department and the RCMP has netted positive results. To that end, it has been decided that the 'groundbreaking pilot program'," and wow his finger quotes were sarcastic, "that we pioneered should be reinstated. They want to see more cooperation between the police agencies of different nations. As this department has experience working with the Canadians, that's who we'll be working with. Several other departments in the city will be similarly reaching out in this cooperative effort."

"So, what you're saying is that because I was partnered with Fraser when all of that stuff with the nuclear sub went down, the CPD wants to capitalize on the publicity?"

Welsh held up the hand again, palm face-down and flat, and waggled it from side to side. "I wouldn't say that, precisely, Detective, but it's close enough to the truth. And being that you're experienced with working with our friends from north of the border, you're our new department Liaison to the RCMP."

"This sucks, Lieu." Ray slumped deeper into the chair, legs splaying out and elbows flapping over the arms.

"Kowalski, you're going to do this. I can't have you unpartnered any longer, and since I can't find another Detective willing to put up with you, I'm handing you off to the Canadians. At least they'll be polite when you drive them crazy." His grin was positively vicious. "Now get your ass over to the Consulate to meet your new partner."

"But, sir. What about the Braeden case?"

"Why do you think that landed on your desk, Kowalski? It'll be a good case for breaking in your partnership, don't you think?"

Ray stood up and nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir."

"Kowalski," Welsh grunted out just before Ray was out of the door. Ray paused but didn't turn around. "Try to give this a chance. You might be surprised." And there was something in the Lieutenant's tone that made the hairs on the back of Ray's neck stand up. He turned back to look at the man, but Welsh just had an enigmatic little smile on his face as he made shooing motions.

He growled when Frannie came over and just perched herself right on the edge of his desk the moment he sat down. “Go away, Frannie.”

She ignored him. “So, I just heard from Harding that you’re going to be working with another liaison from the Canadian Consulate.” And there was no way she’d ‘just heard’, it’d only been thirty seconds since Welsh had told him, so she must’ve been listening at the door.

He scowled, but didn’t say anything.

She kept right on going, oblivious. “So, how do you feel about that? I mean, I know that you’ve been a complete crankpot since you came back from all your adventures being Nanoop of the North." She ducked closer to him and added in a whisper, "and we know why" and then actually winked at him.

Not that she was wrong about his mood. The Lieutenant either, for that matter. The past few months had been no picnic. He’d been irritable and downright depressed at having had to get back to reality after spending close to eight of the best weeks of his life up in the Northwest Territories. He’d almost died, twice, gotten a touch of frostbite on his right foot (Fraser said the numbness might go away in time) and hadn’t ever been able to get warm; but spending night after night in a tent on the snow and ice, with the sled and the dogs and Dief and Benton Fraser had been pretty much the happiest he could remember being in a long damn time.

Of course as soon as he was back in Chicago, sans Fraser, everyone wanted to talk to him about it. They asked about the whole nuclear submarine incident, about his and Fraser’s adventure to find the Hand of Franklin, about dog sledding and Eskimos (and he’d done Fraser proud by correcting everyone in their erroneous use of that term). And as much as he’d loved that time more than anything, talking about it just reminded him that he wasn’t up there any more. He was back at his job at the 2-7 in Chicago, back in his apartment and back to being moody, volatile, Ray Kowalski with no Fraser to temper him. In short, he was miserable.

And now, Welsh was going to make him try to recreate the magic that he and Fraser had just to make some suits at City Hall happy. If he was honest with himself, he could almost appreciate the idea. His and Fraser’s solve rate had been fantastic, they'd broken even some of the most difficult cases, and they’d made one hell of a team. But, he knew that was due to their interpersonal dynamic, and the uniqueness that was solely Benton Fraser. No matter how great the new guy was, he’d never be able to fill Fraser’s shoes.

Still, it might not be so bad. Since he’d been back Welsh had tried three different times to partner him up with somebody and it just never worked out. Two of his temporary partners had been kind enough to at least tell him why they didn’t want to work with him before they requested reassignment, though the third just told Welsh to transfer him or he’d walk. At least working with a Mountie had the potential to be interesting. He’d met quite a few of Fraser’s brethren while they were on their adventure, and many of them were pretty likeable people. A few seemed a bit touched in the head, he’d suspected they’d been out on the tundra too long.

“Frannie,” he said, getting up from his desk and grabbing his coat, “your attempts to psychoanalyze me have been amusing and all, but I gotta go. See ya.”

“Ray,” she called out as he pushed past her and headed towards the door. He paused and glanced back over his shoulder. “If he’s cute and needs someone to show him around the city, lemme know, okay?”

Ray snorted and shook his head. She’d never change.

It felt strange to Ray, to make the drive to the consulate, park out front in his usual spot, make the short trip up those steps and pull open the oversized door. It was all rote, but at the same time wholly different than what was familiar. The fist-sized knot that had taken up permanent residence in his chest seemed to expand when he walked into the foyer – its woodwork still glossed to high polish, Turnbull would be proud – and there weren’t familiar voices or the well-remembered sound of claws ticking on hardwood to greet him. He could almost hear that sound coming from down the hall, the subtle clicking, and damn his memory for betraying him like that.

He forced himself to turn away from staring expectantly down the hallway where Fraser’s office cum bedroom used to be, and strode over to the office that used to be Thatcher’s. He suspected that his new 'partner' was inside with the new Inspector. Well past the mood for niceties, he didn’t bother knocking and just yanked open the door. “Hey,” he called out even before he was inside, “I’m Ray Kowalski from the twenty-sev…” and stopped short.

Because the only person in the room was Benton Fraser, sitting behind what used to be Meg Thatcher’s desk.

“Fraser?” he blurted at the same time that Fraser looked up to see him and smiled like he’d just landed in a snowfield in Canada.

“Ray!” He stood up and must’ve moved from behind the desk because the next thing Ray knew he was being engulfed in a hug the likes of which he hadn’t felt since he said goodbye to Fraser at the airport in Yellowknife.

His repeated, “Fraser?” was kind of muffled considering he’d gotten with the program and was hugging back for all he was worth and his face was sort of pressed into the scritchy wool shoulder of Fraser’s uniform. When he finally pulled back – and okay, maybe the hug went on a little longer than it should have – he looked into blue eyes that were more familiar than his own reflection and asked, “Frase, what the hell?”

Fraser looked nonplussed for just a moment. “Ah, Ray, you seem surprised to see me. Didn’t Lieutenant Welsh tell you about the CPD-RCMP initiative?"

Ray blinked owlishly. "Well, yeah. He told me to get my butt over here cuz the RCMP and the Chicago Police Chief were so thrilled with the work we've done in the past, and the positive publicity it's attracted that I was gonna have to partner up with another Mountie. What he did not say," and Ray knew damn well Welsh had deliberately left out this most important of details, "was that that Mountie was you."

Fraser just smiled again, looking utterly delighted that he'd unintentionally been a part of Welsh's 'surprise'. "Well, it is me, Ray."

"I can see that, Frase." He couldn't help but smile back, pretty goofily he imagined. "It's just... I." His fingers grasped at air, trying to pluck the right words from nothing. "When I left four months ago, you never said anything about coming back. I thought that I wouldn't see you for another six months. Hell, when we talked on the phone last week you didn't say anything about it either."

"Well, at the time I hadn't expected to be coming back to Chicago, Ray. In fact, the details of this assignment just reached me on Tuesday, as I was still up in Tuk until Monday." He scratched at his eyebrow and Ray nearly swallowed his tongue from the rush of glee. He hadn't realized just how much he'd missed that.

"To be honest, Ray, they were expecting me back in Toronto two weeks ago and have been holding the assignment. There was a bit of communication trouble, so by the time I arrived in Toronto, I turned around to leave immediately." He shuffled his feet in a way that told Ray that Fraser was responsible for whatever that communication trouble was. "I've had little time to do anything other than arrange for Dief's transport, and do my own packing."

"Dief's here?" Maybe he hadn't been imagining the sound of claws?

"No, not yet. He's due to arrive tomorrow. I don't suppose I could impose upon you to help me pick him up at the airport?"

Ray waved that way. "Impose? It's not imposing. I miss the furface." He grinned. "My toes haven't been warm since I got back." He'd meant it as a joke, but the reminder of how they'd slept most nights in the tent, huddled tight together, with Dief curled over their feet (ostensibly to help keep Ray warm, but Ray knew that Fraser was a big softie to let Dief get away with it) filled the room. He flushed.

Fraser's expression was similar; he ducked his head and looked away. "Well, I'm sure he'll be happy to see you, Ray." He looked up then, through the dark sweep of eyelashes. "I know I am."

He was right there. All Ray would have to do was lean forward a bit and their lips would meet and... He coughed and noisily cleared his throat. "So... um, case?"

"Right," Fraser nodded. "You've got a case for us."

"Yeah, c'mon." He clapped Fraser on the shoulder. "I um, mean that is if you can get outta here?" Ray glanced around the room. "Shouldn't there be someone else on duty?"

"Oh, Constables Horton and Anderson are both out running errands for the new Consul General. They should be back momentarily."

"And where's he at? The Council General guy?"

"Oh, he's not here yet, Ray. That's part of the reason the RCMP wanted me to hasten my trip. I've been assigned to act as interim Consul General until his arrival next week."

"And as interim Consul General you can just up and leave?"

Fraser looked puzzled. "I shouldn't see why not. I'll put the 'back in fifteen minutes' sign on the door and lock up after myself."

Ray shrugged. "S'okay by me. Just seems like things are less, uh, uptight without Thatcher around."

"Ah, yes, well. Inspector Thatcher did have a certain unique managerial style, didn't she?" They shared a smile.

Ray grinned happily again when they got to the car and Fraser ran a reverent hand across the roof of the GTO. "I have to say, I've missed her, Ray."

Sliding into the driver's seat, Ray waited until Fraser was buckled in to hand over the file he'd brought. "Maybe I'll let you drive her sometime," he offered.

"Really?" Geez, Fraser's expression seemed to light up the dim interior of the car.

"Sure," he nodded as he eased the car away from the curb, "but not today. I wanna get this show on the road. Marjorie Braeden's expecting us, and I don't think us bein' late would look good for the department."

"Indeed, Ray." Fraser agreed, even as he began to peruse the casefile.

Half an hour later Ray found himself standing half a pace behind Fraser while he listened with pretty sincere seeming sympathy to Marjorie Braeden as she explained, in lots of detail, about the ghosts that were stealing her jewelry. Marjorie was a plump, matronly woman, twice-widowed and quite wealthy if the Oak Street townhouse was any indication. And, surprise, surprise, she'd been instantly enamored of Fraser.

"And then, the next morning, it was gone. Just like the other pieces. At first I thought I was just misplacing things, but by the third time, I knew they were disappearing. I tried to talk to the police about it," she scowled at Ray, "but they didn't want to believe me. Ever since Gustov died, I've been alone in the house."

"Gustov was your late husband?" Ray asked.

That earned him another scowl. "No, Gustov was my cat. He was a beautiful, champion blue point Himalayan." She pointed to a glass case on the other side of the room that contained a plethora of ribbons and small gilt statues and wooden plaques, sniffling loudly. "I had him put down last winter. He was sixteen and developed a kidney disorder." She dabbed at one eye with the handkerchief that Fraser produced from somewhere. "Thank you, Sergeant, you're so kind." She dabbed again, and then batted her lashes up at Fraser. "As I was saying, ever since Gustov died, I've felt a presence in the house. I think he was keeping them at bay. The spirits, I mean."

She went on to explain the disappearance of several very specific pieces of jewelry and that she knew they were in place when she went to sleep at night, but they were always gone by morning. "I suspect it's my Uncle Royce," she simpered, laying a hand over Fraser's arm.

"You think your Uncle Royce has been stealing your jewelry?" Ray asked. He'd kind of zoned out on some of her chatter. "Maybe we should talk to this Royce?"

"Well, he's been dead for twelve years, Detective, but if you think perhaps a séance is in order, I suppose that's what we must do." She looked positively delighted by the prospect.

Ray looked to Fraser to field that one.

"I'm sure that won't be necessary at this time, Mrs. Braeden."

"Please, Sergeant, I've asked you to call me Jory."

"Yes, well, Jory." Fraser tugged at his collar. Now that Ray realized that it was jealously he'd been feeling every single time some broad put the moves on Fraser when they were partners, he found the whole thing amusing. "In the event that we're unable to uncover any substantive evidence, we'll definitely keep the idea in mind." He very subtly sidestepped out of her grasp as he gestured to the doorway. "Would you mind if I and my partner had a look around the residence?"

"Oh, go right ahead, Sergeant. I'll just be waiting here in the drawing room if you need anything."

"Thank you, kindly." Fraser told her and followed Ray out of the room.

"Think she's crazy?" Ray asked as soon as there was another room and a hallway between them and Marjorie.

"I'm not inclined to say at this point, Ray."

"She should just set up video cameras and be done with it." They'd made the suggestion, but she'd balked at the idea as an 'invasion of her privacy'. "Then she'll realize that she's probably just been misplacing the stuff. Or heck, maybe she's sleepwalking? Do you think that could be it?"

Fraser shook his head. "I don't think so, Ray. Detective Barnes, who was previously on the case, noted in his report that he'd ordered a twenty-four hour surveillance and instructed the teams to keep a specific eye on the bedroom windows. No one reported seeing anyone near the premises, nor did they see any movement inside the house that might indicate Marjorie had experienced somnambulism. Sleepwalking, Ray. And yet the next morning, she reported the loss of a sapphire pendant valued at close to four thousand dollars."

"Gotcha. Well then hell, maybe it is ghosts."

"I don't think so, Ray." They'd made it to Marjorie's bedroom, and Fraser was examining a mark on the floor at the foot of a heavy wooden dresser. Sure enough, stacked on top of the dresser were several large jewelry boxes and small chests spilling over with what looked like the entire contents of a jewelry store.

"What'd ya got?"

Fraser shook his head. "I'm not sure yet, Ray." He took a cursory look around the rest of the room, then left the bedroom and slowly made his way to the kitchen. Against the back wall was an exterior door. It had one of those small cat flaps at the bottom of it. Fraser knelt down to inspect it and he plucked a tuft of hair from the hinges. "Didn't Mrs. Braeden say that her cat had been a blue point Himalayan?"

Ray shrugged. "Dunno. I think so. Why?"

Fraser held up the hairs. "A blue pointed cat is generally pale cream with gray points. The legs, the tail, the nose and the ears," he explained when he realized Ray wasn't following. "These hairs are dark brown. In addition, they're not nearly the appropriate length for a Himalayan." He brought the fur close to his nose and sniffed.

Okay that? Ray didn't miss. "Geez, Fraser. Couldn't we have gone at least one day without you sniffing or licking anything."

"I haven't licked anything today, Ray." He paused just a heartbeat. "Yet."

And oh boy, the look he gave Ray made him wish he'd worn looser jeans. "Uh, you um, get anything from the sniff test?"

"In fact I did." He stood and headed back down the hall to the drawing room. Ray followed dutifully. He probably should have felt a little bad that he was letting Fraser take complete control of this case; but the truth was that he was just enjoying himself too damn much. Fraser in action was a sight to behold.

"Mrs. Braeden, what can you tell us about the Pest Control company that you had come in to search the home for rodents?"

Marjorie, who looked like she'd been about to once again remind Fraser to call her Jory, frowned. "Well, they were a company that Frederick, my nephew recommended. Nature Knows Pest Control. Their name was amusing, so I brought them in." She described the visit, and the results that were provided. "I have the inspection form, if you'd like to see it?"

Fraser nodded. "We'd appreciate that. Thank you, kindly."

Though he still didn't have a clue what had pinged Fraser's radar, Ray went along with it. Marjorie let them keep the invoice and when they left the house he asked Ray to call the precinct. "Can you find out if 'Nature Knows Pest Control' has any addresses associated with it, other than the office that's listed on the invoice?"

He called in and talked to Frannie (and had to hold the phone away from his ear for a full five minutes while she squealed and made ridiculous high-pitched noises when she heard that Fraser was back) and advised her to call back when she had something. "So, what're you thinking, Frase?"

"Well, Ray. Those hairs I found had the distinctive odor of the mustelidae family. Specifically the domesticated ferret. In addition, I found that odd discoloration on the floor in Marjorie's bedroom. I suspect there was some kind of oil placed there at some point, quite deliberately. It's since been cleaned up, but the oil stained the hardwood beneath.

Suddenly, Ray got it. "So it was like, a scent marker!" Holy shit, Dewey had almost been right. It wasn't squirrels, but it _was_ an animal. "So you think this pest control guy trained a ferret to break into someone's house and steal jewelry?" He frowned. "Fraser, I saw that in a movie when I was a kid."

"A movie, Ray?"

"Yeah, it was called _Beastmaster_ and it was about this guy who had like a tiger and an eagle, and these two ferrets and he could control them with his mind." Wait, that didn't sound right. "No wait, it wasn't a tiger, it was a black panther, but they must not have been able to get a real black panther, because it was just a tiger that was painted black."

"Ray, you're babbling."

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, my point is that the guy in this movie had these two black-footed ferrets that were his thieves. He carried them around in like a backpack, but he'd let them out and they'd go and steal jewels and keys and stuff like that for him."

Fraser looked impressed. "Perhaps that's where our Pest Control friend got the idea? Although, I must point out that they couldn't have been real Black-Footed ferrets, as those have been on the endangered species list since 1967."

"Fraser, they spray-painted a tiger because they couldn't get a real panther. I doubt they managed to get endangered ferrets."

"That's a good point, Ray."

They were interrupted by Ray's cell ringing. It was Frannie calling back with the info she'd dug up on the Pest Control company. Ray reiterated the information to Fraser. "It's owned and run by one guy. A Gerald Dursinsky. He's got a main office over on West, but also rents a small warehouse down by the docks." He told Frannie to have Huey and Dewey head down to the office, and that he and Fraser would check out the warehouse.

On the drive there he told Fraser a little more about the movie. He couldn't remember too much, and might have made up some stuff, but Fraser seemed kind of fascinated. Maybe he'd have to rent it some time for the both of them to watch. When he was done, Fraser found some way to turn the whole idea around and related it to an Inuit legend. The familiarity of listening to Fraser tell Inuit stories and driving around Chicago and just being together washed over Ray, leaving him sort of numb to the outside world.

That's what he was going to blame, anyway, when they were barely in the door of the warehouse and he got jumped.

"Ray, lookout!" He heard Fraser's shout about half a second too late. He ducked left, but from the board that swung towards his head, he should've gone right instead. He took the blow against his temple and it rocked him back. He might have managed to stay upright, if it weren't for the stack of rodent live traps behind him. Stumbling over them, Ray went down with a comical flailing of limbs, and landed hard on his ass. His head was still ringing from the board, so when he felt the very distinctive pressure of a gun barrel against his temple, he decided it was prudent to not fight back.

"Mountie," the man with the gun called out. "I've got your friend here. If you know what's good for you, you'll come out with your hands up."

"Mr. Dursinsky," he heard Fraser say from somewhere behind him. Crap, that was probably Fraser pulling his 'I can reason with the bad guy' thing. "I'd advise you not to do anything rash. Right now you're only in trouble for the thefts. You don't want to add any other more serious charges to that."

"I'm not the one who's being rash," Dursinsky yelled. "You're going to get your buddy here killed if you're not careful."

"You don't want to hurt anyone." Fraser's voice came from a different direction. He must've been circling around, trying to get a good vantage point for whatever plan he had.

Dursinsky lifted the gun away from Ray's temple and gestured with it. "No, I don't. But I will if you don't come out." Ray certainly hoped that whatever Fraser's plan was, he got too it damn soon. The guy sounded like he was at the end of his rope.

"Alright, I'm coming out." Ray looked over Dursinsky's shoulder, and there was Fraser, leaping out from behind a stack of boxes. Ray made his own move just a second later, pushing his body up from the ground to try to catch a distracted Dursinsky in the gut with his shoulder. He was within arm's reach of the man when something small and dark darted out like a shot from Dursinsky's jacket and jumped onto Fraser's back.

Shit! It was the ferret.

In the ensuing struggle, Ray once again got hit on the head by the board and it shattered, and he saw Fraser trying desperately to wrangle the weasel off of his neck. Ray would've just kicked the damn thing, but that wasn't Fraser's style. Unfortunately Fraser's reluctance to harm an innocent fuzzy animal was their undoing. Eventually, Dursinsky got the gun on both of them and they really had no choice but to cooperate. Frankly, Ray was afraid he'd sick the damn ferret on him!

"Look," Dursinsky said as he went to work securing their hands behind their backs. "I just need you guys out of the way while I get outta town. I'll call someone to cut you loose in like, a day or two."

Ray bared his teeth and surged against his bonds. "You let us go right now, or so help me when we catch you, I'm gonna kick you in the head."

Dursinsky ignored him and finished tying them up in silence (Ray had to admit that he was just glad the guy hadn't spent the whole time proselytizing about his master plans) and then held an arm out for the ferret. It dutifully climbed into the open collar of his jacket and settled inside. He left them there without another word, locking up the door to the warehouse behind him with an ominous clang.

"You know, Frase?" Ray broke the silence that had fallen over them after a good half an hour of _not_ sulking over having been overpowered by one guy and his weasel. "Since I got back to Chicago after our adventure my life has been 'normal'." Ray couldn't move his hands to do air quotes, since his hands were behind his back and bound at the wrist with double-looped bailing twine, but he did a good job vocalizing the gesture. "I did not get beat-up, tied-up, held at gunpoint, locked inside of anything. Not even concussed, Fraser. Not once. Worse that happened was I sprained my wrist gettin' it caught in the seatbelt of the GTO when I was trying to ditch the car to catch some dumb punk who stole a lady's purse."

He'd felt incredibly inept after that particular maneuver, though coincidentally the lady who had her purse grabbed was a nurse, so getting it wrapped for free after he caught the purse-snatcher had been nice. "But see, you and me been partners again for what?" He couldn't glance at his watch even if he'd been wearing one. "Less than three hours?"

"Approximately, Ray." Fraser confirmed, and he must've nodded because Ray could feel the movement against his back.

"Okay, three hours we've been back in this thing together, and here I am in a dusty, dirty warehouse, bruised, possibly concussed, and tied-up." He wanted to keep layering on the sarcasm, but there was too much in the way of amusement bubbling to the surface. He let out a noise somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. "I think that's a record."

Behind him he heard Fraser inhale, and he could already hear the protest, "Ray, you're not concussed. That was balsa wood that you go hit with. It didn't even knock you out."

"Hit in the head by a piece of wood, Frase. I don't care if it was balsa or oak or freakin' knotty pine. It was wood and it splintered over my head on that second hit." Geez, there must be something wrong with him because no matter how badly he wanted to chastise Fraser for his penchant for getting them into situations like this, he was enjoying it too damn much. "I'm not even going to get into the fact that we're here because you recognized weasel hair by smell."

"It was ferret hair, Ray. While they're both of the family mustilidae, they _are_ a different species, and have a very particular odor."

"Whatever, I'm just saying that it's not a coincidence that as soon as you showed back up on my life it went from boring and dull and lonely, but relatively normal; to absolute crazy, insane, no-one is gonna believe this shit when I write it in the report in the matter of three hours."

"Language, Ray."

"Sorry, but still, you can't argue that there's no way it could be a coincidence."

"I haven't been arguing, Ray. Although," he felt a muscle in Fraser's arm jerk; he must've been going for the old thumb across the eyebrow, "I have to be honest. Despite your protests, I do get the feeling that you're enjoying yourself."

Yeah, he really couldn't deny that. He bumped a shoulder back against Fraser's companionably. "Yeah, maybe," he admitted.

Fraser was silent a moment, then he replied, 'Me too, Ray."

"Hey, Frase?"

"Yes, Ray?"

Oh boy, how to start this conversation? They'd been kind of dancing around it since the moment they set eyes on each other in the consulate, but he just hadn't felt like that was the right time to bring it up.

"Ray?"

Crap, he'd been quiet too long. "It's just that, uh... me and you. We uh, sorta had something going when we were on the trail, yanno?" And yeah, Fraser did know, because he went stiff as a balsa or knotty pine or whatever the hell kind of wood plank, his spine a rigid line against Rays. "Um, I just wanted to know, was that like a Canada thing?"

"A Canada thing?" Fraser repeated icily, and Ray winced at his tone.

"You know," he tried to explain, "like, it's one of those things that happened because we were alone out on the ice. Just keeping each other warm." And boy did they keep each other warm. There hadn't been a-lot of opportunity for more than quick hands sneaking underneath all the layers, and some really amazing, heat-producing friction, but there'd been a-lot of kissing and snuggling close for warmth and it'd been more intimate that Ray cared to admit.

"Okay," he forced himself to keep going. "It's just that we never really talked about it. I mean, about what it meant. And now that you're here and you're gonna be sticking around for awhile, I just need to know: what did it mean?"

Fraser was silent for a long moment, then he cleared his throat. Despite that, he still sounded kind of hoarse when he said, "Well, what did it mean to you, Ray?"

It was probably a good thing they were tied up back-to-back with their hands behind and in-between them, otherwise Ray might have strangled Fraser. "Fine." He let out an explosive breath and then inhaled just as forcefully. "Okay. I can do this. Fraser..."

The door burst open in an impressive show of splintering boards and a cacophony of sound. "Kowalski!" Ray heard someone call out and then saw Dewey peer around the edge of the door, gun drawn.

"We're over here!" Ray called. "Place is empty. Just me and Fraser."

Dewey came slowly into the warehouse, Huey close on his heels. They did a cursory sweep of the area then came back with guns holstered. "Geez, Ray." Dewey laughed while Huey knelt down to cut through the twine. "You and Fraser have been working together for what? Two hours?"

"Three hours," he and Fraser replied in tandem.

Dewey snorted a laugh. "Okay, three hours, and you're already tied up?"

Ray shook his arms out after easing himself to his feet. "Yeah, yeah. What about Dursinky? Did you get him?" He looked over as Fraser was cut loose and stood up to dust himself off. The magic of how he managed to look completely spotless and unmussed even though they'd just spent nearly an hour tied up on the floor of a dirty warehouse after being attacked by a ferret was just another in a long line of things that Ray had missed dearly.

"Yeah," Huey nodded. "Dursinsky went for the office just like you said he would. He still had some of the jewelry on him, and we searched the place and found the rest of it. He hadn't had a chance to pawn _any_ of it yet."

Ray grinned. "Good."

"What did you do with the ferret?" Fraser asked, and of course he'd be worried about it.

"Animal Control took it. Damn thing bit me on the wrist." Huey held up his hand for inspection. There were a couple of hastily placed band-aids taped there.

Fraser clucked sympathetically.

A few more uniformed officers showed up shortly after that, and Ray and Fraser spent the next little while getting the case wrapped up. They headed down to the precinct, and participated in what was probably the shortest interrogation ever. Ray had simply walked in the room, suggesting that he make good on his promise to kick Dursinsky in the head, and the man had folded like a card table. The only concern he'd had was for the well-being of his ferret. Fraser assured him it would be well cared for.

They recovered all of the jewelry Marjorie Braeden had reported missing, and even some she hadn't know was gone. She'd come down to the station to identify it and provide proof of ownership, and wanted to show Fraser her gratitude, but Ray managed to peel her off before too much harm could be done.

Eventually, the two of them were left standing next to Ray's desk in the relative quiet of the evening shift. "So." Ray blew out a breath. "Here we are." A memory popped into his head just then. "Hey, Fraser," Ray said, giving Fraser the biggest, most meaningful smile he could manage, "you wanna go and get something to eat with me?"

Fraser's face split wide into another icefield smile. He obviously remembered too. "Yeah. I'd like that, Ray."

They decided on carry-out at Ray's apartment.

Like the whole day had been, dinner was eerily familiar. They settled on Ray's battered couch with take-out containers between them, a beer for Ray and a glass of milk for Fraser. They talked about the case, about what they'd each been up to for the past several months. Ray talked about everyone at the station and got Fraser caught up on everyone he knew, Fraser told stories about Buck Frobisher and the things head heard about Turnbull and even the Ice Queen. Eventually they finished their dinner and drinks and were left with just the conversation.

"So, Ray." Fraser shifted on the couch, turning to angle himself so he was facing Ray. "Earlier in the warehouse, you started to say something."

"I did?"

Fraser nodded. "Yes, Ray. You did."

Ray swallowed hard. He knew they were headed here. They'd been headed here forever it seemed like. "Okay, so like I was saying in the warehouse." He forced himself to look up and meet Fraser's gaze. In the dim light of Ray's apartment they were the deep cobalt of glacial ice. "We didn't get to talk about how we felt about ... how we _feel_ about each other. And, I dunno. Maybe it was because we didn't think things would end up there. I mean, I know I didn't. I hadn't expected to just have to up and leave. I thought we'd have time to talk."

Fraser gave a brief nod. "Me too, Ray. I was admittedly thrown by the haste at which things seem to happen when you left."

"So yeah. Now that we're here and you're staying, I think we should start off by sayin' all that stuff we didn't get to stay. I don't want to wait."

Again, Fraser inclined his head. "Me either."

"So," Ray began again, feeling like kind of an idiot. "So, the thing is, Fraser. I've been fucking miserable these past few months without you. All that stuff between us on the adventure? That was..." he reached out to gesture and ended up grabbing hold of Fraser's hand. Just the feel of it in his grounded him. "It was real, Fraser. It was everything. I wanted it then and I want it now and I'm always going to want it." Fraser's fingers squeezed tightly and Ray gave a quick smile. "The fact that you're here right now, is just... I still can't believe it."

"But," and he hated to have to say this, to even bring it up, "you were happy up there, weren't you? Why would you want to come back here and stay where it's crowded and miserable and polluted and full of rude assholes."

"I _was_ happy up there, Ray." Fraser confirmed, reaching up to grasp Ray by the upper arms and shake him a little. "I was happy up there with _you_. And now that I know that I can go back, and that I'll be welcome, I can be happy down here too. I don't feel the same sense of loss that I felt before when I was practically in exile. Besides, _you're_ here, Ray." His grip on Ray's arms tightened. "I don't think I could be completely happy anywhere without you."

And that was it. Ray let Fraser haul him in and he pressed his mouth against Fraser's hungrily. His mouth remembered those kisses and their bodies fit together with long familiarity. He licked his way along the seam of Fraser's mouth, teasing the edge of his lips even when Fraser opened them and tried to catch his tongue, then worked his way down the line of Fraser's jaw, nipping and sucking. Fraser made a low, throaty sound into his ear, and cupped one hand around Ray's ass, hauling him closer.

Oh yeah, he remembered kissing like this. Being tucked into the cocooning warmth of two sleeping bags zippered together. The air getting humid and stifling and almost unbreathable around them, even as they kept kissing and kissing. They'd had to use extra elk fat, or whatever that stuff had been, on their faces some days, because the beard-burn was so bad. Some nights they didn't even get to the quick handjobs that were their tried and true way of making each other come, and instead just kept kissing until they fell asleep with their mouths against each other.

Ray drew back some minutes later, panting. "C'mon, let's... bedroom. I don't wanna do this out here." He pulled Fraser's hand, tugging him up off the couch. "We had nothing but nights in that tent all bundled up to keep from freezin' our dicks off. Now that we got a bed? We're getting all the way naked." He practically hauled Fraser the short distance to the bedroom. Not that Fraser protested. He followed after until they were standing at the edge of the bed, hands still clutching at each other.

"I like the way you think, Ray." Fraser rumbled against his cheek, rubbing the stubble on his jaw counter to Ray's. "In fact, why don't I get started on that." And thank god, he went to work on the uniform. Ray had been a little worried about tackling all the unbuckling and unbuttoning on his own. He didn't want to wait _hours_ to get Fraser naked. Ray made short work of his own clothes, kicking off his shoes and socks, shucking his shirt, and pushing down boxer-briefs and jeans in one quick movement. When he was done, he sat back on the bed and just watched Fraser bare himself.

Fraser, who'd already shed the boots and the serge and was working on the pants, must've realized he had an audience, because he slowed in his movements, slipping the button then teasing down the zipper in a lazy slide. It seemed to take hours for him to get them open. The suspenders were next and he eased one down over a shoulder, and then the other. His head was down, but he looked up at Ray and his eyes were blown, all pupil, dark and hot. "Shit, Fraser." Ray had to wrap a hand around his own cock. "You gotta... I can't wait."

Apparently neither could Fraser. He scrambled to get the rest of everything off, and then when he pulled his foot from the last leg of his boxers, he put his hands on Ray's shoulders and pushed him up and back to lie flat on the bed. Ray groaned when Fraser crawled on top of him. They'd gotten each other off dozens of times, but they'd never gotten to just get skin-to-skin like this. Fraser's cock was pushed, hot and hard, against his hip and his own rubbed deliciously against Fraser's belly.

Ray curled his hands over Fraser's shoulders and slid them down the wings of his shoulder blades, following the dip and curve of his spine until he both his hands on Fraser's ass. God, he'd wanted to really get his hands on that ass for so long. He squeezed and kneaded and Fraser thrust frantically against his hip. They could come like this so easy. Ray felt on the edge already, but that's not what he wanted.

"Frase," he managed to husk out in a ragged breath, "I wanna fuck you. I ... can I? Can we do that?"

Fraser moaned, low and almost agonized, the sound muffled where his mouth was latched onto Ray's neck. "Yeah," he managed, pulling away with a sucking kiss. "Yes, I want that." But in direct contrast to those words, he pulled away from Ray and began sliding down his body, leaving as many points of contact between them as he could while he moved.

"Frase?" Ray asked, somewhat breathlessly. All that friction was amazing. He hadn't ever realized just how much being naked and touching in places that weren't supposed to be a turn could get him revved up.

"I want that, Ray, I do." Fraser said reassuringly, "but first I want something else."

Ray felt the heat of an exhaled breath ghost over his hip, and then another on his thigh. The press of an open mouth followed, tongue laving flat against his skin, almost lapping at him. He squirmed and Fraser chuckled. He hadn't expected Fraser to be such a damn tease. They hadn't had time for this in the tent. For this slow exploration and body mapping. It was excruciating, but in the best way.

Fortunately, Fraser seemed just as prone to impatience as he was. The lazy, trailing kisses and tease of tongue soon turned into suckling, almost biting and dragging lips that were finally, finally right where Ray wanted them. Fraser practically forced Ray's cock into his mouth, keeping his lips tightly pursed as he pushed down over the head and then slowly moved down the shaft. It felt ridiculously like pushing into the tight, enveloping heat of another body. Ray let out a sighing-groan.

Fraser eased back, but kept the pressure of his mouth steady and then began to bob his head slowly up and down. He was all spit-slick and smooth-sliding, and then he added a steady, cheek-hollowing suction. Shit. And _that_ was amazing enough, but of course Fraser was talented as hell at multi-tasking so he wasn't done there. He got a hand up and just lightly trailed the tips of his fingers over Ray's balls, stroking with a light barely-there touch from the base of his cock, all the way back to his perineum, scrape and slide, over and over.

"Fraser," Ray managed to gasp. No way in hell was he going to be able to last long at all with this action.

With an amused sort of sound that vibrated Ray's balls in the weirdest way, Fraser pulled off Ray's cock. "Yes, Ray?" He sounded far too pleased with himself. Not that Ray could blame him. Barely a few sucks and strokes into a blowjob and he had Ray right on the edge of coming.

"Christ. If you want me to get my dick inside of you at any time tonight, you're gonna have to stop that."

Quite vindictively, Ray felt, Fraser engulfed Ray's cock in his mouth once again, going down almost to the root. Hell, Ray could feel Fraser's nose against his belly. He sucked a last time, noisily and too, too hard, and then pulled off with a quick pop of his lips. "Sorry about that, Ray."

"Bastard," Ray whimpered. There were stars flashing behind his squeezed-tight eyelids.

Fraser just chuckled.

Ray took a few deep and steadying breathes, then opened his eyes to glare down at Fraser's unrepentantly smug grin. "Next time, I'm not gonna hold back and I'm just gonna come down your throat when you do that."

Fraser's eyes flashed. Oh hell, he looked like that was exactly what he wanted. "Next time," he agreed.

"Nghh," was about all Ray could manage at that thought. He reached out for Fraser's head and pushed his fingers through the thick, dark hair, curling them to get a grip. "C'mon, get up here." He gave a tug, and Fraser obediently scooched back up his body. Ray had to kiss him, desperate and messy and then he asked, "how do you wanna do this? I mean, how do you want me?"

Fraser rolled over onto his belly and pulled one knee up as high as he could. Ray felt his breath hitch in his chest at the sight of him lying so ready and exposed. He couldn't believe they were going to do this. He'd wanted it for so long. Hell, he'd been fantasizing about it since the day he got back to Chicago.

Like Fraser had done earlier, Ray moved up Fraser's body, sliding up so that his chest and belly and cock stayed in contact with that warm, smooth skin. He dragged his chin over the back of Fraser's thighs, pressed his teeth against the curves of Fraser's ass and mouthed at the knobs of Fraser's spine, traced his fingers over the stutter of Fraser's ribs, chuckling when he felt Fraser squirm beneath him.

When he was stretched out fully over Fraser's body, he flailed out one arm towards the nightstand and retrieved his half-empty bottle of lube with a practiced motion. He flicked open the flip-top cap and squeezed a generous amount into the cup of his palm. Taking care so he could retrieve it again if necessary, Ray set the bottle aside and then warmed the viscous fluid with a few hot puffs of breath.

He repositioned slightly, so that he was lying almost at Fraser's side, and guided his hand down to Fraser's ass. He let some of the lube drizzle out of his hand right where Fraser's cheeks were slightly parted, and then gently worked his fingers into the space. He teased the tip of one finger around the wrinkled ring of skin. Fraser squirmed again, and lifted his ass up against Ray's hand.

Ray could take a hint. He worked more of the lube in the cleft of Fraser's ass and then pushed in with one finger. He watched the tension in the lines of Fraser's shoulder and listened to the cadence of his breathing and when he relaxed fully, Ray pushed in just a little more and then eased back out. In moments, Fraser was canting his hips in a counter motion to Ray's minute thrusts. He added a second finger, and worked it in in the same achingly slow rhythm. A third finger followed soon after, slipping in easily beside the first two, and Ray could feel Fraser grinding his cock into the mattress in thrusts contrary to the plunging of his fingers, fucking himself on Ray's hand.

"Oh God, Frase. I wanna make you come just like this... with just my fingers inside you." He pushed his own cock against Fraser's hip, slick-sliding against skin dewy with perspiration and damp with precome, and pressed his fingers in at the same time. Fraser rocked back to meet him, and then with a groan, Ray felt Fraser tense the muscles in his ass, trapping his fingers.

"Not this time, Ray...please. I want you inside me."

"Okay," Ray managed a shaky nod, even though he knew Fraser couldn't see it. "Okay, yeah. Yeah, I need to fuck you." Fraser unclenched and as Ray slowly drew his fingers out he could only imagine how that tight, squeezing space was going to feel around his cock.

Ray rolled more to his side, positioning himself with one of Fraser's knees between his own legs, and then wrapped an arm tight around Fraser's chest to pull Fraser's body against his so that he was nearly lying on his back with Fraser reclined against him. He hooked the other hand underneath Fraser's bent knee, drawing it almost to his chest, and used the leverage to guide the tip of his cock to Fraser's entrance. He pushed in with a slow, steady motion and it was probably the best damn thing he'd ever known.

Fraser was tight around him, but slick from both the lube and Ray's fingers and he eased in and out with little resistance. He started with long, slow thrusts, moving his whole body with each of them; pulling back so just the very tip was still inside of Fraser, before pushing back in deep as he could go. But soon enough, the pure, overwhelming pleasure of it all took control of the tempo, and the motion of his hips morphed to rapid, snapping thrusts.

Flushed and panting, Fraser hooked one arm back behind him and clutched at the back of Ray's neck, and wrapped the other hand around his own cock. He didn't even have to move his arm, just held on and let the rocking motion of Ray's pistoning hips do the work for him. He threw his head back against Ray's shoulder, exposing the long line of his throat. Ray took the invitation for what it was, biting down hard at the juncture of his neck, and Fraser bucked and jerked and came with a hoarse shout. His whole body clenched with it, going taut, and that vice like grip clamping down around Ray's cock brought him over the edge only a few moments later. He came with a nearly noiseless keen, his hips thrusting in a few final, helpless spasms.

Ray collapsed against the mattress and felt Fraser slump bonelessly against him. He drew in deep droughts of air that almost burned his raw throat. "Holy shit," he gasped out a few minutes later when he'd gotten enough breath back. "Holy shit, Fraser."

"Normally," Fraser panted, "I'm not one for profanities, Ray, but in this case... I have to concur. Holy shit."

Ray wheeze-laughed. "Well said, Fraser."

They lay panting quietly for a while after that, until Fraser rolled over so that he was facing Ray once again. He traced a hand over Ray's cheek and down his jaw. "In case it wasn't clear earlier, I love you. You know that, right?"

If he hadn't already been pretty much over heated, Ray probably would have all-over flushed at that. But he did know, so he said as much. "Yeah, Frase. I know. And that's what I was trying to say to you before, yanno? That I love you, too." He stared at the blissful expression that just blossomed like sunshine over Fraser's face. "Do we need to like, hug or something now?" he asked with a snicker.

Fraser apparently thought so, because he wrapped his arms around Ray and squeezed the damn life out of him. Ray might have squeezed back just as tight. When he eased back, Fraser had an odd look on his face. "I meant to ask you, Ray. Earlier at the precinct, Francesca took me aside and told me she understood finally, that she was sorry if she ever made me uncomfortable, and that she'd be there for me if I needed her. Do you have any idea what that's about?"

Ray just laughed. "I'll tell ya about that later. Trust me, you don't wanna know." He sighed, but it was a happy, contented sound. "It's gonna be great to have you back, yanno that, Frase?"

"I'm sure Lieutenant Welsh would agree. He mentioned that you'd been sulking."

"I was not sulking," Ray protested.

"Sulking, Ray."

"I was out of sorts. Sullen at worst. Moping, maybe. Brooding."

"Sulking."

"Fine, sulking." Ray went silent a moment then said in a sleepy but speculative tone, "Maybe we should send you back to Canada. Get a replacement Mountie. One who's not so argumentative." He chuckled.

"I missed you too, Ray."


End file.
